July 26, 2025 • 14 mins
Get enthralled by the vivid and engaging account of a Sioux childs life during the last era of the tribes untamed existence in the 19th century, before the encroachment of civilization. Charles Eastman, born in 1858 in Minnesota, takes you through his exhilarating journey from the lush forests of the land of lakes to the boundless prairies of the Dakota territory. Experience his extensive training in woodcraft, horsemanship, and hunting, and delve into the captivating stories passed down from his elders that formed the core of his tribes oral traditions. Eastman paints an honest picture of the dangers that were part and parcel of such a lifestyle, but also conveys the sheer joy and thrill of the adventures. As you listen, you may find yourself yearning for the freedom to ride across the wild prairie just like young Ohiyesa.
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Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Part nine, Chapter two of Indian Boyhood by Charles Eastman.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Manitosha's Hunting
It was in the winter, in the moon of difficulty January.
We had eaten our venison roast for supper, and the
embers were burning brightly. Our teepee was especially cheerful. Uncheedah
(00:22):
sat near the entrance, and my uncle and his wife
upon the opposite side, while I with my pets occupied
the remaining space. Wabita the dog lay near the fire
in a half doze, watching out of the corners of
his eyes the tame raccoon, which snuggled back against the
walls of the teepee, his shrewd brain doubtless concocting some
(00:44):
mischief for the hours of darkness. I had already recited
a legend of our people, all agreed that I had
done well. Having been generously praised, I was eager to
earn some more compliments by learning a new one. So
I begged my uncle to tell me a story. Musingly,
he replied, I can give you a Sioux Cree tradition,
(01:09):
and immediately began. Many winters ago, there were six teepees
standing on the southern slope of Moose Mountain in the
moon of wild cherries September. The men to whom these
teepees belonged had been attacked by the Sioux while hunting
buffalo and nearly all killed. Two or three who managed
(01:32):
to get home to tell their sad story were mortally
wounded and died soon afterward. There was only one old
man and several small boys left to hunt and provide
for this unfortunate little band of women and children. They
lived upon teepsinna wild turnips and berries for many days.
(01:55):
They were almost famished for meat. The old man was
too feeble to high successfully. One day in this desolate camp,
a young Cree maiden for such they were, declared that
she could no longer sit still and see her people suffer.
She took down her dead father's second bow and quiver
(02:15):
full of arrows and begged her old grandmother to accompany
her to Lake Wanagiska, where she knew that moose had
oftentimes been found. I forgot to tell you that her
name was Manitosha. This Manitosha and her old grandmother, Nawakiwi,
took each a pony and went far up into the
(02:37):
woods on the side of the mountain. They pitched their
wigwamp just out of sight of the lake and hobbled
their ponies. Then the old woman said to Manitosha, o,
my granddaughter, to the outlet of the Wanagiska, and see
if there are any moose tracks there. When I was
a young woman, I came here with your father's father,
(02:59):
and we pitched our tent near this spot. In the
night there came three different moose. Bring me leaves of
the birch and cedar twigs. I will make medicine for moose.
She added. Manitosha obediently disappeared in the woods. It was
a grove of birch and willow with two good springs.
(03:20):
Down below was a marshy place. Now Akiwi had bidden
the maiden look for nibbled birch and willow twigs, for
the moose loves to eat them, and to have her
arrow ready upon the bowstring. I have seen this very
place many a time, added my uncle, And this simple
remark gave to the story an air of reality. The
(03:43):
Cree maiden went first to the spring, and there found
fresh tracks of the animal she sought. She gathered some
cedar berries and showed them, and rubbed some of them
on her garments so that the moose might not scent her.
The sun was already set, and she felt she must
return to Nawakiwi. Just then, hin Hankaga, the hooting owl,
(04:07):
gave his doleful night call. The girl stopped and listened attentively.
I thought it was a lover's call, she whispered to herself.
A singular challenge peeled across the lake. She recognized the
alarm call of the loon and fancied that the bird
might have caught a glimpse of her game. Soon she
(04:30):
was within a few paces of the temporary lodge of
pine boughs and ferns which the grandmother had constructed. The
old woman met her on the trail. Ah, my child,
you have returned none too soon. I feared you had
ventured too far away, for the Sioux often come to
this place to hunt. You must not expose yourself carelessly
(04:52):
on the shore. As the two women lay down to sleep,
they could hear the ponies munched the rich grass in
an open spot near by. Through the smoke hole of
the pine bow wigwam Manitosha gazed up into the starry
sky and dreamed of what she would do on the
morrow when she should surprise the wily moose. Her grandmother
(05:13):
was already sleeping so noisily that it was enough to
scare away the game. At last, the maiden, too lost
herself in sleep. Old Navakiwi awoke early. First of all,
she made a fire and burned cedar and birch so
that the moose might not detect the human smell. Then
she quickly prepared a meal of wild turnips and berries,
(05:37):
and awoke the maiden, who was surprised to see that
the sun was already up. She ran down to the
spring and hastily splashed hands full of the cold water
in her face. Then she looked for a moment in
its mirror like surface, there was the reflection of two
moos by the open shore, and beyond them Manatosha seemed
to see a young man standing. In another moment, all
(06:00):
three had disappeared. What is the matter with my eyes?
I am not fully awake yet, and I imagine things. Huugh,
it's all in my eyes, the maiden repeated to herself.
She hastened back to Nawakiwi. The vision was so unexpected
and so startling that she could not believe in its truth,
(06:21):
and she said nothing to the old woman. Breakfast eaten,
Manitosha threw off her robe and appeared in her scantily
cut gown of buckskin with long fringes and moccasins, and
leggings trimmed with quills of the porcupine. Her father's bow
and quiver were thrown over one shoulder, and the knife
dangled from her belt in its handsome sheath. She ran
(06:42):
breathlessly along the shore toward the outlet way off near
the island Medoza. The loon swam with his mate, occasionally
uttering a cry of joy. Here and there the playful
hogan the trout sprang gracefully out of the water in
a shower of fallen dew. As the maiden hastened along,
(07:02):
she scared up Wadawasee, the kingfisher, who screamed loudly, stop Wadawasie, stop,
you will frighten my game. At last she had reached
the outlet she saw at once. The moose had been
there during the night. They had torn up the ground
and broken birch and willow twigs in a most disorderly
way ah, I exclaimed, I wish I had been with Manitosha.
(07:28):
Then hush, my boy, never interrupt a story teller. I
took a stick and began to level off the ashes
in front of me, and to draw a map of
a lake. The outlet the moose and Manitosha away Off
to one side was the solitary wigwam Nawakiwi and the ponies.
(07:48):
Manitosha's heart was beating so loud that she could not
hear anything. Resumed my uncle. She took some leaves of
the winter green and showed them to calm herself. She
did not forget to throw in passing a pinch of
pulverized tobacco and paint into the spring for Manito the spirit.
Among the twinkling leaves of the birch, her eye was
(08:10):
caught by a moving form, and then another. She stood motionless,
grasping her heavy bow. The moose, not suspecting any danger,
walked leisurely toward the spring. One was a large female moose,
the other a yearling. As they passed Manitosha, moving so
(08:32):
naturally and looking so harmless, she almost forgot to let
fly an arrow. The mother moose seemed to look in
her direction, but did not see her. They had fairly
passed her hiding place when she stepped forth and sent
a swift arrow into the side at the larger moose.
Both dashed into the thick woods, but it was too late.
(08:55):
The cree maiden had already loosened her second arrow. Both
fell dead before reaching the shore. Uncle, she must have
had a splendid aim, for in the woods the many
little twigs make an arrow bound off to one side.
I interrupted, in great excitement. Yes, but you must remember
(09:16):
she was very near the moose. It seems to me, then, uncle,
that they must have scented her, for you have told
me that they possessed the keenest nose of any animal.
I persisted, doubtless the wind was blowing the other way,
but nephew, you must let me finish my story. Overjoyed
(09:37):
by her success, the maiden hastened back to Nawakawi. But
she was gone. The ponies were gone too, and the
wigwam of branches had been demolished. While Manitosha stood there,
frightened and undecided what to do, a soft voice came
from behind a neighboring thicket, Manitosha Anatosha, I am here.
(10:03):
She at once recognized the voice and found it to
be Nawakiwi, who told a strange story. That morning, a
canoe had crossed the Wanagiska carrying two men. They were Sioux.
The old grandmother had seen them coming, and to deceive them,
she had once pulled down her temporary wigwam and drove
(10:24):
the ponies off toward home. Then she hid herself in
the bushes near by, for she knew that Manitosha must return. There, come,
my granddaughter. We must hasten home by another way, cried
the old woman. But the maiden said, no. Let us
go first to my two moose that I killed this morning,
(10:45):
and take some meat with us. No, no, my child,
The Sioux are cruel. They have killed many of our people.
If we stay here, they will find us. I fear.
I fear them and Natosha. At last, the brave maid
convinced her grandmother, and the more easily, as she too
(11:06):
was hungry for meat. They went to where the big
game lay among the bushes and began to dress the moose.
I think if I were they, I would hide all day.
I would wait until the Sioux had gone, then I
would go back to my moose, I interrupted for the
third time. I will finish the story first, then you
(11:29):
may tell us what you would do, said my uncle, reprovingly.
The two Sioux were father and son. They two had
come to the lake for moose, but as the game
usually retreated to the island, Chatansapa had landed his son
Kaniska to hunt them on the shore while he returned
(11:49):
in his canoe to intercept their flight. The young man
sped along the sandy beach and soon discovered their tracks.
He followed them up and found blood on the two.
This astonished him. Cautiously, he followed on until he found
them both lying dead. He examined them and found that
in each moose there was a single cree arrow. Wishing
(12:13):
to surprise the hunter if possible, can gisk lay hidden
in the bushes. After a little while, the two women
returned to the spot. They passed him as close as
the moose had passed the maiden in the morning. He
saw at once that the maiden had arrows in her quiver,
like those that had slain the big moose. He lay still.
(12:35):
Kangiska looked upon the beautiful cree maiden and loved her.
Finally he forgot himself and made a slight motion. Manitosha's
quick eye caught the little stir among the bushes, but
she immediately looked the other way, and kangisk believed that
she had not seen anything. At last, her eyes met his,
(12:57):
and something told both that all was well. Then the
maiden smiled, and the young man could not remain still
any longer. He arose suddenly, and the old woman nearly
fainted from fright. But Manitosha said, fear not, grandmother, we
are two and he is only one. While the two
(13:18):
women continued to cut up the meat can Giska made
a fire by rubbing cedar chips together, and they all
ate of the moose meat. Then the old woman finished
her work, while the young people sat down upon a
log in the shade and told each other all their minds.
Kangiska declared by signs that he would go home with
(13:40):
Manitosha to the Cree camp, for he loved her. They
went home, and the young man hunted for the unfortunate
Cree band during the rest of his life. His father
waited a long time on the island, and afterwards searched
the shore, but he never saw him again. He supposed
(14:01):
that those footprints he saw were made by Krees, who
had killed his son. Is that story true, Uncle, I
asked eagerly. Yes, the facts are well known. There are
some Sioux mixed bloods among the Crees to this day
who are descendants of Kangiska and of Part nine, Chapter two,
Part nine, Chapter two of Indian Boyhood by Charles Eastman.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Manitosha's Hunting
It was in the winter, in the moon of difficulty January.
We had eaten our venison roast for supper, and the
embers were burning brightly. Our teepee was especially cheerful. Uncheedah
(00:22):
sat near the entrance, and my uncle and his wife
upon the opposite side, while I with my pets occupied
the remaining space. Wabita the dog lay near the fire
in a half doze, watching out of the corners of
his eyes the tame raccoon, which snuggled back against the
walls of the teepee, his shrewd brain doubtless concocting some
(00:44):
mischief for the hours of darkness. I had already recited
a legend of our people, all agreed that I had
done well. Having been generously praised, I was eager to
earn some more compliments by learning a new one. So
I begged my uncle to tell me a story. Musingly,
he replied, I can give you a Sioux Cree tradition,
(01:09):
and immediately began. Many winters ago, there were six teepees
standing on the southern slope of Moose Mountain in the
moon of wild cherries September. The men to whom these
teepees belonged had been attacked by the Sioux while hunting
buffalo and nearly all killed. Two or three who managed
(01:32):
to get home to tell their sad story were mortally
wounded and died soon afterward. There was only one old
man and several small boys left to hunt and provide
for this unfortunate little band of women and children. They
lived upon teepsinna wild turnips and berries for many days.
(01:55):
They were almost famished for meat. The old man was
too feeble to high successfully. One day in this desolate camp,
a young Cree maiden for such they were, declared that
she could no longer sit still and see her people suffer.
She took down her dead father's second bow and quiver
(02:15):
full of arrows and begged her old grandmother to accompany
her to Lake Wanagiska, where she knew that moose had
oftentimes been found. I forgot to tell you that her
name was Manitosha. This Manitosha and her old grandmother, Nawakiwi,
took each a pony and went far up into the
(02:37):
woods on the side of the mountain. They pitched their
wigwamp just out of sight of the lake and hobbled
their ponies. Then the old woman said to Manitosha, o,
my granddaughter, to the outlet of the Wanagiska, and see
if there are any moose tracks there. When I was
a young woman, I came here with your father's father,
(02:59):
and we pitched our tent near this spot. In the
night there came three different moose. Bring me leaves of
the birch and cedar twigs. I will make medicine for moose.
She added. Manitosha obediently disappeared in the woods. It was
a grove of birch and willow with two good springs.
(03:20):
Down below was a marshy place. Now Akiwi had bidden
the maiden look for nibbled birch and willow twigs, for
the moose loves to eat them, and to have her
arrow ready upon the bowstring. I have seen this very
place many a time, added my uncle, And this simple
remark gave to the story an air of reality. The
(03:43):
Cree maiden went first to the spring, and there found
fresh tracks of the animal she sought. She gathered some
cedar berries and showed them, and rubbed some of them
on her garments so that the moose might not scent her.
The sun was already set, and she felt she must
return to Nawakiwi. Just then, hin Hankaga, the hooting owl,
(04:07):
gave his doleful night call. The girl stopped and listened attentively.
I thought it was a lover's call, she whispered to herself.
A singular challenge peeled across the lake. She recognized the
alarm call of the loon and fancied that the bird
might have caught a glimpse of her game. Soon she
(04:30):
was within a few paces of the temporary lodge of
pine boughs and ferns which the grandmother had constructed. The
old woman met her on the trail. Ah, my child,
you have returned none too soon. I feared you had
ventured too far away, for the Sioux often come to
this place to hunt. You must not expose yourself carelessly
(04:52):
on the shore. As the two women lay down to sleep,
they could hear the ponies munched the rich grass in
an open spot near by. Through the smoke hole of
the pine bow wigwam Manitosha gazed up into the starry
sky and dreamed of what she would do on the
morrow when she should surprise the wily moose. Her grandmother
(05:13):
was already sleeping so noisily that it was enough to
scare away the game. At last, the maiden, too lost
herself in sleep. Old Navakiwi awoke early. First of all,
she made a fire and burned cedar and birch so
that the moose might not detect the human smell. Then
she quickly prepared a meal of wild turnips and berries,
(05:37):
and awoke the maiden, who was surprised to see that
the sun was already up. She ran down to the
spring and hastily splashed hands full of the cold water
in her face. Then she looked for a moment in
its mirror like surface, there was the reflection of two
moos by the open shore, and beyond them Manatosha seemed
to see a young man standing. In another moment, all
(06:00):
three had disappeared. What is the matter with my eyes?
I am not fully awake yet, and I imagine things. Huugh,
it's all in my eyes, the maiden repeated to herself.
She hastened back to Nawakiwi. The vision was so unexpected
and so startling that she could not believe in its truth,
(06:21):
and she said nothing to the old woman. Breakfast eaten,
Manitosha threw off her robe and appeared in her scantily
cut gown of buckskin with long fringes and moccasins, and
leggings trimmed with quills of the porcupine. Her father's bow
and quiver were thrown over one shoulder, and the knife
dangled from her belt in its handsome sheath. She ran
(06:42):
breathlessly along the shore toward the outlet way off near
the island Medoza. The loon swam with his mate, occasionally
uttering a cry of joy. Here and there the playful
hogan the trout sprang gracefully out of the water in
a shower of fallen dew. As the maiden hastened along,
(07:02):
she scared up Wadawasee, the kingfisher, who screamed loudly, stop Wadawasie, stop,
you will frighten my game. At last she had reached
the outlet she saw at once. The moose had been
there during the night. They had torn up the ground
and broken birch and willow twigs in a most disorderly
way ah, I exclaimed, I wish I had been with Manitosha.
(07:28):
Then hush, my boy, never interrupt a story teller. I
took a stick and began to level off the ashes
in front of me, and to draw a map of
a lake. The outlet the moose and Manitosha away Off
to one side was the solitary wigwam Nawakiwi and the ponies.
(07:48):
Manitosha's heart was beating so loud that she could not
hear anything. Resumed my uncle. She took some leaves of
the winter green and showed them to calm herself. She
did not forget to throw in passing a pinch of
pulverized tobacco and paint into the spring for Manito the spirit.
Among the twinkling leaves of the birch, her eye was
(08:10):
caught by a moving form, and then another. She stood motionless,
grasping her heavy bow. The moose, not suspecting any danger,
walked leisurely toward the spring. One was a large female moose,
the other a yearling. As they passed Manitosha, moving so
(08:32):
naturally and looking so harmless, she almost forgot to let
fly an arrow. The mother moose seemed to look in
her direction, but did not see her. They had fairly
passed her hiding place when she stepped forth and sent
a swift arrow into the side at the larger moose.
Both dashed into the thick woods, but it was too late.
(08:55):
The cree maiden had already loosened her second arrow. Both
fell dead before reaching the shore. Uncle, she must have
had a splendid aim, for in the woods the many
little twigs make an arrow bound off to one side.
I interrupted, in great excitement. Yes, but you must remember
(09:16):
she was very near the moose. It seems to me, then, uncle,
that they must have scented her, for you have told
me that they possessed the keenest nose of any animal.
I persisted, doubtless the wind was blowing the other way,
but nephew, you must let me finish my story. Overjoyed
(09:37):
by her success, the maiden hastened back to Nawakawi. But
she was gone. The ponies were gone too, and the
wigwam of branches had been demolished. While Manitosha stood there,
frightened and undecided what to do, a soft voice came
from behind a neighboring thicket, Manitosha Anatosha, I am here.
(10:03):
She at once recognized the voice and found it to
be Nawakiwi, who told a strange story. That morning, a
canoe had crossed the Wanagiska carrying two men. They were Sioux.
The old grandmother had seen them coming, and to deceive them,
she had once pulled down her temporary wigwam and drove
(10:24):
the ponies off toward home. Then she hid herself in
the bushes near by, for she knew that Manitosha must return. There, come,
my granddaughter. We must hasten home by another way, cried
the old woman. But the maiden said, no. Let us
go first to my two moose that I killed this morning,
(10:45):
and take some meat with us. No, no, my child,
The Sioux are cruel. They have killed many of our people.
If we stay here, they will find us. I fear.
I fear them and Natosha. At last, the brave maid
convinced her grandmother, and the more easily, as she too
(11:06):
was hungry for meat. They went to where the big
game lay among the bushes and began to dress the moose.
I think if I were they, I would hide all day.
I would wait until the Sioux had gone, then I
would go back to my moose, I interrupted for the
third time. I will finish the story first, then you
(11:29):
may tell us what you would do, said my uncle, reprovingly.
The two Sioux were father and son. They two had
come to the lake for moose, but as the game
usually retreated to the island, Chatansapa had landed his son
Kaniska to hunt them on the shore while he returned
(11:49):
in his canoe to intercept their flight. The young man
sped along the sandy beach and soon discovered their tracks.
He followed them up and found blood on the two.
This astonished him. Cautiously, he followed on until he found
them both lying dead. He examined them and found that
in each moose there was a single cree arrow. Wishing
(12:13):
to surprise the hunter if possible, can gisk lay hidden
in the bushes. After a little while, the two women
returned to the spot. They passed him as close as
the moose had passed the maiden in the morning. He
saw at once that the maiden had arrows in her quiver,
like those that had slain the big moose. He lay still.
(12:35):
Kangiska looked upon the beautiful cree maiden and loved her.
Finally he forgot himself and made a slight motion. Manitosha's
quick eye caught the little stir among the bushes, but
she immediately looked the other way, and kangisk believed that
she had not seen anything. At last, her eyes met his,
(12:57):
and something told both that all was well. Then the
maiden smiled, and the young man could not remain still
any longer. He arose suddenly, and the old woman nearly
fainted from fright. But Manitosha said, fear not, grandmother, we
are two and he is only one. While the two
(13:18):
women continued to cut up the meat can Giska made
a fire by rubbing cedar chips together, and they all
ate of the moose meat. Then the old woman finished
her work, while the young people sat down upon a
log in the shade and told each other all their minds.
Kangiska declared by signs that he would go home with
(13:40):
Manitosha to the Cree camp, for he loved her. They
went home, and the young man hunted for the unfortunate
Cree band during the rest of his life. His father
waited a long time on the island, and afterwards searched
the shore, but he never saw him again. He supposed
(14:01):
that those footprints he saw were made by Krees, who
had killed his son. Is that story true, Uncle, I
asked eagerly. Yes, the facts are well known. There are
some Sioux mixed bloods among the Crees to this day
who are descendants of Kangiska and of Part nine, Chapter two,
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